


Thigh Jobs

by KassieProphet



Series: Ghost Prompts [13]
Category: Ghost (Sweden Band), Ghost B.C.
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Feeding, Finger Bang, Panty Kink, intercural sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:20:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22148566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KassieProphet/pseuds/KassieProphet
Summary: Tumblr Prompts:I was wondering how Papa III/Copia would be like having intercrural sex with a shy female s/o?
Relationships: Cardinal Copia/Original Female Character(s), Papa Emeritus III/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Ghost Prompts [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1536134
Kudos: 28





	Thigh Jobs

**Papa III** is so delighted you asked him to do this. He’s done it frequently with his male lovers, but not many women he sleeps with ask him to do this. While not as intense as penetration, he likes it because it’s so close and intimate. He’ll get to hold you near and smell your neck and hair. 

He leads you to his bedroom—his favorite robe cinched tight about his waist—and lets you situate yourself comfortably on his soft bed. You kick off your slippers and strip down to your silk undergarments—a purchase you made specifically for him—then crawl under his covers, duvet up to your chin.

“Ah, little one,” he says, “no need to be so shy. We go slow.”

He crawls over the covers to you, the lust you see in his eyes overshadowed by what you glimpse in between his legs when his robe falls apart—even though you’ve seen it all before, there’s still something so salacious about getting an unintended ( _ or was it? _ ) peek.

This is Papa III—and sex is  _ sex _ —so he’s never going to skimp on the foreplay. He joins you under the covers and positions himself behind you—you’re in the V of his legs, your back against his chest.

“But we relax first, yes? It’s good to be jelly.”

It’s not one of his proper massages, but you’re not complaining as his skilled hands squeeze and knead at your neck and shoulders. At some point your head lolled forward, and you shiver at the sensation of him lightly kissing the nape of your neck he now has access to. You can feel his erection against the small of your back, which sends a thrill through you and straight to your clit.

_ You _ did that—that’s for  _ you _ .

You moan, and one of his hands slips down to pinch at your nipple through your chemise. You buck a little—the sensation making your clit throb even more—and he trails the other hand down to hold you in place at your stomach. He’s grinding into you a little now—short, jerky thrusts—as he plays with your nipples and kisses up your neck to nibble at your ear, and back down again to lightly bite at your shoulder. You’re beginning to writhe in his embrace—some pressure on your clit would be lovely—but he’s keeping it all above your waist and over your clothes.

Tilting your head back onto his shoulder, you look up at him. “Please, Papa?”

“ ‘Please’ what, little one?” he asks as he runs a finger along your cheekbone.

You squirm a little in his grasp, uncomfortable for asking outright.

“Ah ah ah—none of that. I need you to tell me. Out loud.”

Grumbling a little, you hide your face in his shoulder, but manage to mumble out, “Please will you touch me…down… _ down there _ , Papa.”

He kisses the top of your head.

“Hmm. Down here?” he asks as he moves a hand from your breasts to your stomach.

“No! Down further!”

“Oh! My bad.” He moves his hand slowly lower—until he’s at your mound—only to veer at the last minute to the top of your outer thigh. “Perhaps here is where you meant, yes?”

“Papa!” you squeal.

“Apologies, little one.” he says as he moves to cup your ass. “This must be it.”

You’re giggling now and trying to twist in his hold to get his hand where you want it. Unfortunately, he’s annoyingly managing to thwart you. Finally you concede and gasp out, “Touch my clit,  _ please _ , Papa!”

“Ai!” he smacks at his head. “Your sweet little cunt. Papa is a dunce, no? Of course that’s where you meant.”

His deft fingers are suddenly under your chemise bottoms and slipping through your outer folds—you’re wet enough that he has no trouble gliding in to rub at your clit. You gasp and jerk at the sudden contact, but Papa III doesn’t shy away from tapping at your sensitive nub. His other hand is resting lightly on your chest, and he whispers in your ear,

“Mmm, already so wet.” He dips the pad of his finger down to press at your entrance, making you gasp in pleasure. “Shall I taste it from the source?”

The tip of his finger dips in slightly—not too much—and he spreads your wetness up and down your slit before bringing his finger up to his mouth. You can hear him rumble in pleasure as he sucks his finger into his mouth. 

He sighs. “Perhaps some other time I will grease my chin with you.”

His hands move back down your body, and at this point you’re more than happy to have him help you kick off your bottoms. You find yourself on your side—Papa at your back, one arm wrapped around your waist, the other rubbing again at your folds.

“Yes, Papa— _ please _ ,” you gasp, hoping to encourage him to touch you once more, your clit now throbbing in earnest.

“Since you beg so prettily.”

His finger slips in to rub and tap at your clit. You gasp and twist at the bursts of pleasure his fingers wring from you. He sucks at your neck and licks at your ear as he dips in and out of you, spreading your wetness outside your folds. He teases you that way for what seems like forever—gently tapping at your clit until you’re close, only to break away to tease your entrance and smear your juices everywhere. Your mouth is filling with saliva at the nearness of your orgasm, and you’re beginning to writhe and whine in his grasp. 

Papa III runs his hand lightly over your inner thighs and outer lips before commenting, “Hmm, yes. I think we are ready.”

His tightening grip around your waist is the only warning you get before he’s swiping his index finger rapidly back and forth over your nub. It’s too much and exactly what you’ve been looking for, and in no time you’re clamping your thighs together and riding out the crest of your orgasm, feeling like you’re leaking everywhere as you cum.

He slows down, letting you work through your aftershocks, face pressed into the pillow and panting. His finger is still working slow circles over your clit and he asks, “Shall we coax out another, little one?” but you shake your head, and you feel his hand withdrawal.

You’re feeling loose and sated, just relaxing into the bed, but aware of movement behind you. Soon enough, you feel the front of Papa’s naked skin press against your back—his erection hard to miss. He lightly ruts against you asking, “May I?”

You nod and say  _ Mmhmm _ . He slips one arm back around your waist, and you feel his cock poke at where your two inner thighs press together. He slips in a little, your juices easing the way, and presses a hand down on your top thigh.

“You keep that nice and tight, yes?” he whispers in your ear, and you can hear the slight tremble in his voice. You nod against his mouth, your free hand coming to rest atop the one Papa III has resting on your belly.

He pushes his cock all the way through the vice of your thighs, and you feel him exhale sharply against your neck.

“Mmm, little one—your body feels so nice for me.”

The grip he has on you tightens as he begins to thrust in and out, his cock now coated in your slick and sweat. The movement of his cock in your folds is enough to stimulate further wetness from you, but not quite enough to bring you along on this ride. The longer it goes on, the heavier Papa pants, the jerkier his movements become, and the harder he clasps you to him.

“Ah, ah—tighter if you can,  _ per favore _ ?” he begs into your ear.

You squeeze your thighs together as tight as you can make them. Papa III hisses, but his movements become faster, desperate. You can feel yourself getting wetter again, and the bump of his cockhead against your clit is winding you up enough that you realize you’ve started counter thrusting.

“Just like that,  _ yes _ . Yes,  _ il mio amore _ . Don’t stop!”

Papa is breathing heavily into your neck now—his mouth sucking what will probably be a pretty dark bruise at the juncture of your neck—his hand wandering up to clumsily grab at your breasts and flick at your nipples. It’s still not enough and you exclaim, “Touch me, Papa,  _ please _ !”

His hand flies down to slip his finger into your slit. You’re already throbbing and engorged clit pulsates at the press of the pad of his finger and you moan loudly at the sensation. Suddenly Papa III goes rigid and lets out an  _ Ah! _ before you feel his hot cum splatter across your thighs. 

It’s very arousing, and your clit gives another bubbling pulse as you try and grind it against his now still finger. He gives a couple of juttering thrusts as he rides out his aftershocks, before starting up again on your clit. The heaviness in your cunt builds as the tempo of his finger reaches a crescendo, and you cum for the second time in colorful bursts—moaning out in time as your pussy pops.

You squirm away from his touch when your clit becomes too sensitive, but you’re aware of Papa still gently thrusting into your thighs with his softening cock. He’s still snuffling at your neck and you press your back against him as much as your can. You’re rewarded with a satisfied purr as he pulls you close with both arms now wrapped around you.

His mouth finds the shell of your ear as his whispers, “Give an old man 10min, and we go again, yes?”

* * *

**Copia** is surprised, but happy to fulfill this for you. He’s by no means inexperienced in the bedroom, but he can’t really recall the last time he engaged in this act. (He might have even had to look it up on the internet,  _ shhhh _ .)

He sets up dinner beforehand in his quarters—candlelit for two. You arrive in something nice, but uncomplicated to remove, and see he’s dressed down to the bottom layers of one of his suits. He’s gone all out in the set up—white linen over his small table, silver plate coverings—which you notice as he pulls out your chair. He sits down, only then realizing he can’t reach your plate without knocking the candles over, so he jumps back up—jostling the table enough that the candles  _ do _ waver, and you reach out to stabilize them.

“ _ Spiacente  _ … apologies,” he stammers as he helps you right the candles and removes your plate covering. You put your hand over his, smiling warmly, and he smiles back before bringing it up to his lips to kiss. The reveal is a hearty plate of pomodoro pasta … that you don’t think you can comfortably finish. After a few bites, you realize Copia is staring at you intently. Self consciously you dab at your face, but he motions you with a crook of his finger to drag your chair next to his.

You do so, and when your chair is flush with his, he maneuvers one of your legs across his lap. Intent on your mouth, Copia expertly twirls a forkful of pasta and brings it to your lips. You open wide and make sure to drag your mouth slowly off the prongs—you may be shy, but you’re not naïve. If possible, his pupils dilate further as he watches you lick the sauce off your lips. 

He coughs and shifts in his seat before mumbling to himself as he goes in for another forkful, which he eats himself. That’s how the meal goes—Copia alternating bites for food between the two of you and giving sips of wine—until you tell him you’re full. His other hand has been slowly working its way up your thigh—shifting up your skirt—until it’s tantalizingly close to your cunt, rubbing soft circles into your skin with his leather-clad thumb. 

“Come here,  _ mio dolce _ ,” he says as he encourages you to straddle his lap. As you clamber onto him, you knock over your chair—but he just hisses at you to leave it. His hands are at your waist, and he’s looking up at you as if you were hung in The Louvre. You have your arms resting around his neck as he runs his buttery gloves up your body, then back down to your thighs.

Looking you in the eyes, his white one seeming to gleam, he rucks up your skirt again with one hand as the other slithers slowly up the inside of your thigh until it reaches your panties. He drags his thumb up from where your hole is to where your clit should be, before pressing in lightly.

It’s just a light, tingling sensation … but it’s enough that you let out a soft  _ mmm _ and press forward into his touch.

“You like that, yes?”

You nod your enthusiastic agreement, and he continues to lightly trail and press his thumb and fingers over your folds through your panties. The touch is barely-there, but even so you feel your clit throbbing more with each pass. You curl over to rest your forehead against his as your breaths get heavier the more aroused you get. You feel so close to cumming, but so far away.

Copia moans, angling his head up to look at you.

“You smell good enough to eat,  _ mio dolce _ . Do you wish for me to continue, or may I have you as dessert?”

You know how much he loves eating pussy, but you’re loathe to stop where this buildup is going just so the two of you can stop and reposition.

“Please, I’m so close. Please, just like this … .” you plead.

He nods. “A compromise then? Can I touch you?”

A pleased moan is your only response as he pulls down your panties enough to slip his hand in. He thumbs at your clit, and it’s like a revelation after his ghosting touches. The pad of his thumb presses hard at your clit in rhythmic pulses as his head dips down to mouth at your hard nipples through the fabric of your top.

You’re grinding down into his thigh, and he maneuvers you so that you’re instead grinding into his bulge as his hand works your nub. Between all of the sensations, you’re soon hurtling to orgasm—unsure of whether to mash down into his erection or up into his digit. You feel your climax just within reach and you start whimpering “Don’tStopDon’tStopDon’tStop”. Copia just speeds up on your clit until you’re whining your release, head thrown back, twitching into his press.

Once you come down, you find yourself in a tight embrace, pulled close against him as he ruts lightly into you. You run your fingers through his hair and pepper his forehead with soft kisses. His head tilts up—a silent request for open-mouthed kisses—so you press your mouth against his and let his tongue plunder you. When he comes up for air, you watch him suck the thumb of his glove into his mouth and his eyes roll back. 

“I take you to bed now, yes?” he asks lowly. You nod once, and he sweeps you up into his arms, carrying you bridal-style over to deposit on his bed. You situate yourself so that you’re propped up on his pillows as he crawls up after you. He begins to peel off your panties—you shudder at the feeling of their stickiness leaving you and clasp your thighs together in embarrassment.

Copia doesn’t seem to notice—he’s too taken with your moist panties, which he bundles up and brings to his nose to inhale.

“Ahh … you have a wonderful bouquet,” he says, eyes closed as he takes in your sex scent. You shift awkwardly on the bed and he seems to come back to himself. He looks at you, cheeks flushing. 

“Apologies,  _ mio dolce _ —may I hold onto these?”

You’re pretty sure your face is bright red, but it’s not the first time he’s asked for a favor, so you just give him a quick nod. He crawls further up the bed to peck at your lips.

“ _ Grazie _ , for indulging my little, ah—kinks.”

He reaches over to his nightstand drawer. In the same movement of placing your wet panties in the drawer, he takes out a bottle of lubricant. 

“For when we’re ready,” he explains with a shrug.

Copia settles in on his side beside you, toying with your dress. 

“Shall we lose a few layers, hmm?”

You agree before climbing under his regulation sheets—you did lose your panties after all, and still want a modicum of modesty. He strips down to his boxers—a tight black number with cartoon rats on them (“They were a gift from the Ghouls”)—as you wriggle out of your dress, leaving you in just your shift. Copia joins you under the covers and draws your face in for a kiss. You go readily, letting him suck at your lips and wiggle his tongue into your mouth.

His hands—now bare—slide from your face, to your neck, then down your arms; it makes you shiver in a delicious way. His hands roam up your stomach to cup your breasts and thumb your nipples through the fabric. He plucks at your straps.

“On or off,  _ mio dolce _ ?”

You war with yourself—having a little bit of armor or feeling his skin on yours?

“Ahh, it’s ok. We leave it on for now,” he says as he kisses you.

The two of you make out like that for a while—him kissing you, his hands roving over your body and dipping down into your pussy; you pushing your hands up into his hair and down his back. He slips one of his big thighs between your legs, and you ride it, Copia moaning at your wetness as he presses his cock into your stomach.

You’re feeling hot and flushed again—and you really do want to feel him against you—so you begin to tug and yank at your slip.

“ _ Shhh _ —let me help.” Copia grabs the end of your shift and shucks it easily off you over your head. After tossing it over his shoulder, he tugs off his boxers. You eagerly wrap a hand around his shaft, which causes him to shudder violently and moan loudly into your shoulder. 

“ _ Oh _ ! You feel so good,  _ yes _ .”

You stroke him for a few minutes, him twitching every time you reach his cockhead, until he lays his hand over yours to still you.

“You don’t want me to pop too soon. Are you ready?”

You are, and he grabs the lube from where he tossed it earlier. He gives his cock and your thighs both generous coatings.

“May I face you,  _ mio dolce _ —or would you prefer the other way?”

“Just like this,” you say as you bring a hand up to his cheek. 

He turns his head slightly to kiss it before positioning his cock between your thighs. You moan in unison—him from the wet-hot of your slick thighs; you from the feeling of his cockhead against your sensitive clit.

Making sure to keep your thighs closed tight, you wriggle your arms so that they’re around his neck. You give him an open-mouthed kisses as he pants with the exertion of thrusting into the space between you, his hands gripping your hips hard. His cockhead is hitting your nub on about every third thrust, even with you sliding your folds up and down his shaft, and—while it’s a delicious tease—you need more.

“Touch me, please!” you gasp into his mouth, and you feel one of his hands work itself between your bodies. If you were afraid of disrupting the flow of your sex, your concerns were for naught—at the feel of your engorged clit and the slickness of your slit, Copia lets out a loud moan and begins to thrust faster. 

His breath is hot on your face and his cock is hot between your legs—you’re trying to ride it out with him but—while it feels good—the angle is still awkward enough that you can’t quite keep pace. He cums before you do—a jerky, gasping thing—and you feel his sticky cum drip down the back of your thighs. You expect him to work through his aftershocks, but suddenly he’s wiggled his way down your body, lifted your thigh over his head, and is lapping you to completion. Your hands fly down to clutch at his head as his warm tongue presses and flicks at your clit.

You try not to grind into him, but you’re  _ so close _ , and it feels like you’ve been teased for ages. You feel your climax approaching, and Copia hums an  _ mmm _ into you, which sends you over the edge. His tongue flicks at you relentlessly as your pussy pops and you scream on every exhalation.

When you’re finished, you roll onto your back, and he looks up at your from where his head is pillowed on your thigh. His eyes are hooded and he looks like the cat that licked the cream. You pet at him shakily, but he still turns into it.

“Good, yes?” he asks, with only a hint of insecurity.

“Mmm . . .  _ very _ ,” you reply, scritching at his scalp. You shift and wince at how tacky your thighs feel. “But  _ sticky _ . Can we . . . ?”

He chuckles and tell you to relax while he gets the shower going.


End file.
